By Water, By Blood
by musicnotes093
Summary: It was a choice that he would carry for a lifetime. Two-shot tag to You Posted What?
1. Part I: Lighter Than Blood

**Title:** _"__By Water, By Blood"_

**Rating:** T for sensitive moments

**Genre:** drama, family

**Character(s):** Douglas and Tasha, with focus on Leo

**Pairing(s):** none

**Summary:** It was a choice that he would carry for a lifetime. _Two-shot tag to You Posted What!?_

**Notes:** I watched the episode and welp—this came about. Well, actually, this came about when the episode first aired, but then I put off writing it for a while. The conversation you would read in the first chapter is actually the one that started this all. It just kept replaying over and over again in my head! So, I had to write it down. The second chapter is inspired by a chat 88keys and I had. I hope you like how this turns out, and thanks again for letting me have a go at it. :)

I hope everybody enjoys this too!

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><p><em>Part I: Lighter Than Blood.<em>

The boy is a dreamer. He views the world with a magnifying glass adjusted to an odd grade. To him, nearly everyone is worth saving. He utterly disregards how having that mentality can put him in harm's way. At the first sign of danger, his inclination is to protect. He owns the type of courage that flickers and consumes brightly, though mindlessly at times.

He also tends to forgive too easily. With that critical eye of his, it only takes one glint of something pure and sincere, and it sets him off to reconsider his previous suppositions no matter the others' opinions on it. He does not allow the possibility of redemption to be defiled by things in the past, which, as he sees it, has changed as it reached the present. Instead, he seems to welcome the opportunity of having an ally out of an old enemy gladly.

The boy must be deluded.

Still, oftentimes, Douglas has been led to wonder if that conclusion is colored by his own guilt.

He dismissed the kid as insignificant not too long ago. He had looked at him as an object whose life didn't matter, whose life was not an intricate puzzle that is gradually coming together into a unique work of art. His life was not a life then; his life was just a presence. The kid was something that could be easily subverted into non-existence, and the method to accomplish that did not even chip at his previously coarse conscience the slightest bit.

How cruel he was then, reducing the boy to a _something_ and not even dignifying him by seeing him as a _someone_.

Perhaps it is a good thing that he's changed.

He won't admit it, but he finds the shifts within him—within his humanity, within his very core—to be fascinating, and the unexpected influences from whom it came about have become marvelous spectacles on their own that he cannot ignore. When he came back into his brother's and the three older children's lives, he had expected resistance, which he met. His older brother tried to be accommodating, and the three tried to be very friendly, but there was still the tar-like residue of what he had done to them clinging in the air whenever they're around each other that everything felt strained. He also saw how tightly linked the four of them were, how they stood unbreakable, that he was left feeling lonely and jealous.

He had reasoned that he deserved it for acting so foolishly. He deserved to drown in his loneliness and his jealousy. Actually, that was a merciful punishment, for his being so greedy and dim and murderous, and he had no right to ask for more than what they could offer.

Then that boy proved to him that no one willing to change merits the same kind of poison he once served. He was the first to forgive and the first to offer him a semblance of a friendship.

The boy really is a dreamer.

He can't deny, though, that somehow, sometime, he had formed a particular attachment to the kid. He supposes it was inevitable; the boy did follow him often. He still doesn't know down to this day if it was only because the boy's stepfather asked him to do so or because of his seemingly ingrained nature to tail whomever he found interesting, but he's secretly grateful because it had kept him from feeling alone. It quickly vanquished his loneliness too, but it was because the kid annoyed him often. The teenage boy has an insatiable, wide-eyed curiosity for everything, leading him to observe, ask, and form inferences around people who, at times, evidently don't want him around.

Oddly, throughout the weeks, the kid's constant presence at his side left him feeling accomplished (even if the only thing he had done in a day is fix the coffee maker, which the boy had watched with the utmost concentration like it was the only important thing in the world) and accepted ('Hey! You fixed the ancient coffee maker!' he had declared after the lights in the appliance turned on).

This is how he knows that the boy, among many other things, is a good person.

That's why it had been difficult to see him in pain. While he woke up with a sharp ache in his midsection after Krane had taken a shot at him, the boy had ended up having his right arm crushed by a tremendously heavy piece of concrete. He still can't explain the instinct that surged within him when he saw the boy's pitiable state. He tried to lift the weight off of him, but his own internal damages prevented him from doing so.

All he could do was ask for help—which came too close to being too late. When the firemen finally lifted up the beam, the boy wasn't screaming anymore. He was lying wordlessly but was breathing very heavily. His eyes wandered in confusion as beads of sweat formed on his temples. He was pale. He was cold. He had spilled too much of his life on the floor.

Douglas remembered enough of the lessons back in med school to recognize the symptoms: abnormal breathing, confusion, sweating, drop in internal temperature.

_Hypovolemic shock. _

Even as he sits there in the emergency room with injuries he needs to mind, all he can think about is the boy. He keeps remembering the look on his face as the EMTs hurried him inside the ambulance in a gurney. All the joy and sarcasm and curiosity were gone. All that was left was…was loneliness, as if the boy understood then that despite all the friends he had made in his life, he might just die alone.

The doctor steps in at that moment with images of his X-rays and a small smile on his face. He talks after his formalities.

Douglas doesn't listen. 'How is he?' he asks a minute into the doctor's nonsensical babbling.

The doctor wrinkles his eyebrows. 'Pardon?'

'Leo. How is he?'

The crease eases out from his temple. The smile doesn't come back. 'Stable. From the last I heard, he's under observation,' he says.

Douglas doesn't say anything, but he silently breathes out in relief before refocusing his eyes on the reddish taint left at the back of his fingers.

'Are you a good friend to your step-nephew?'

Douglas lifts his eyes up suddenly and stares suspiciously. 'Sure,' he answers.

The doctor nods. 'Good,' he says. ''Cause he's going to need one.'

His features slightly knit into a frown.

'His arm is too damaged,' the doctor begins. 'The accident crushed several of his bones, and though a few of them are salvageable and some could possibly be replaced, bottom line is that he won't be able to use it anymore.' He takes a breath and releases it. 'Dr. Sorvino is just waiting for his mother to inform her of the best option for him.'

'Best option?'

'They have to amputate his arm.'

Those words immediately send a shock through him. The doctor launches forth in an explanation about fractures and bone marrow leaking into bloodstream and how that could result into complications like respiratory failure, but he doesn't hear him. His mind is too preoccupied with the foreseeable future of the boy coming home, feeling less like a someone and more like a something.

He cannot let it happen. He will not watch the boy lose the courage and the curiosity and the confidence that characterized him because he was caught in an unfair situation. He will not watch him grapple with living a life filled with constant hospital visits and a toxic medley of pills that will kill him faster than his own hopelessness.

He will not watch him drown with no one to save him.

So, he acts as soon as the plan materializes in his mind. He sneaks out as soon as the doctor leaves then heads straight to the area where they keep the boy. On the way, he manages to steal an EMT personnel jacket hanging up on a hook inside a surprisingly empty lounge (_borrow_, he should say, because he's sure his newfound conscience will urge him to return it later) and use it as a disguise as he wheels in an empty gurney that has been blocking the hallways of the emergency room.

He finds the boy sleeping, secluded from the rest of the world behind the pulled curtains, his heavily bandaged arm tucked carefully on his side while machines beep and whir around him in their own version of a lullaby.

He silences the devices one by one, pulling them off before transferring the boy into the gurney carefully but quickly. The process is excruciating for him because of his ribs, but the brace helped in minimizing the pain. Once the boy is loaded and covered with white cloth, he moves out through the garage and into the parking lot where his recklessly parked car sits.

As he begins the process of repairing the kid three-fourths of an hour later, Douglas realizes how much everything can change in a course of a year. He recalls the command he had given Marcus just last summer as he watched the boy try to break into their home to free his family: _Take care of him. For good._ Now, as he meticulously wires him to an equipment that will prevent him from losing more blood, all the while helping him to generate more to make up what he lacks, he silently tells the unfeeling structure the same first four words but this time, without the hostility and numbness they once had.

He just wants him to live.

He continues on his task in this state of thinking, working tediously to erase the once bleak future for the kid and replacing it with something better, something stronger. As he does, he decides then that the kid should never, ever be helpless again.

So, he grants the kid his wish, his dream.

Nearly three hours later, Douglas finds himself readjusting the brace around him, after having to take it off to clean up due to the red smears that came from the procedure, and then resuming his search around the warehouse for something that would implicate the monster he had foolishly created.

A few minutes later, he hears a voice coming from the room outside. It starts weakly and quietly. Then, it magnifies into a scream.

Douglas stops what he is doing and hurries back into the room where he last leaves the boy. There, he finds him struggling against the restraint, his fear inciting him to ask for help that, in his rebuilt and best state yet, Douglas fully knows he will not need much of. Still, he tells him to calm down and provides the answers to the questions shot frantically towards him.

As this transpires, he finds relief in the evidences of his success. The kid is awake, unchanged and above all, he's alive.

_He's alive._


	2. Part II: Thicker Than Water

_Much thanks to Lady Cougar-Trombone, AlienGhostWizard14, and RandomGirlPerson for the reviews and favorites! Ra'Zara The First and StripedFuzzySocks, thanks for the favorites too!_

_Second and last part of the tag. I thought I loved the first, but this one came out and proved me wrong. :)_

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><p><em>Part II: Thicker Than Water.<em>

_He's alive._

The words escaped from her lips as a whisper of relief, with her eyes stinging from the salt of her tears and sweat. After eleven hours of labor, which, she thought, was so infinitesimal in comparison to the eight months and three weeks of pregnancy, her son was finally there. He was screaming, crying on the top his little lungs as she held him close to her, examining his tiny fingers that grasped the empty air under the faint hospital light. She counted them—one to ten, one to ten and again—and made sure he was in good health and was not lacking anything. She marveled at his tiny features afterwards.

She decided that he was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Her mother agreed as soon as she saw him.

Her husband did, too, of course, his appreciation of having seen his son heightened fourfold after his best friend drove him back in an '84 Volkswagen Golf GTI from their business trip across state at a speed that nearly made the poor car fall apart.

As she gazed at her son hours later, when he was fast asleep in her arms, she began to wonder what kind of person he would become. She wondered if he was going to be like his father, not just in appearance but also in personality. Or was he going to be a combination of both of them? While contemplating these, other questions came up to mind: How were they going to raise him with their fluctuating income? What if he wanted toys and they couldn't buy him any? Didn't she want to be a good mother? How could she be a good mother if she can't buy her son something he wanted?

'You'll be okay. I know you're going to be the best mom ever,' her husband had guaranteed her then, and she hung onto those words for years to come. 'But – Best Mom Ever still has to name the baby.'

'I did. I already told them what his name is.'

'Oh, yeah?'

'Yeah,' she said softly. She smiled down at her son. 'I told them his name is Leo.'

It took her husband a few seconds to absorb the information. Then, 'Well, hello there, Leo,' he spoke to his son quietly. 'I'm Dad, and this is Mom. We don't have much, but we love you, and we'll try our best for you, okay?' He leaned down and kissed his son on the forehead.

Their child stirred a little in her arms then fell back to his task of getting acquainted with the world even through sleep.

They tried to stay true to their promise as weeks, months and years went by, she and her husband. Despite barely being able to pay their monthly bills and the mortgage, they still made sure that their son had the best under their circumstances. They strived hard for simplicity, to raise him in a happy home, even when, three years after he was born, she was laid off the radio station and her husband suddenly got sick. It was only a great reward to them both to watch him grow up from year to year as a happy child, full of energy and questions and dreams of being able to fly to save the world.

It was all set, the future for the three of them. Things had even begun looking up when she was hired by the news station and an old neighbor found a nicely-priced apartment near the pre-school that their son attended, where he was apparently making a number of friends.

And then, the unthinkable happened: her husband's imperfection decided that his best could only last a few months after his son turned six.

She doubted during those first few days that her child had any real grasp of what death was. He was smart enough to know that that meant that Dad was not going to be taking him to school anymore, and he was compassionate enough not to ask her the questions accumulating in his mind, but there was something in the way he walked around the apartment in the morning, looking for him before realizing he wasn't there, and in the way he stared at her blankly when she cried that made her think he didn't understand.

However, she soon realized that she had been wrong.

His grief became evident through his withdrawal, whether he was aware of it or not. The count of the new friends he was making decreased, one by one at first, and then altogether. Instead of talking about the cartoon characters on his classmates' lunchboxes, which he used to do and which garnered him the friendliness of other kids, he discussed numbers and letters and books non-stop to the point that the other children refused to sit with him anymore. The last hope she had of him regaining his good social skills was lost when the girl he thought was pretty called him weird and annoying.

He thought about that for days on end. She had only known about it when one night, while she was reading him a bedtime story, he looked up at her and asked, 'Mommy? Am I weird?' Of course, she assured him that he wasn't, but almost everybody whose opinion he had wrongly placed importance on seemed to disagree with her.

It saddens her to remember those things now, years later, especially that one instance when she came to pick him up from school and found him crying because the kids pushed him after he insisted that he be allowed to play with them. It cut her deeply, as his mother, to see him grow and be forced to come to terms that he was never going to be accepted by so many.

But he remained resilient, and she knew that was good. He didn't sorrow much for the things he could not have, but he continued working for the more tangent and attainable things. He studied hard and brought home grades that she used to decorate their refrigerator, and he also began to branch out into other creative fields, like writing, which he showed the most promise in. On his own and without being prompted, he attempted at forging good relationships with other kids. There were more failures than successes, especially after the middle school principal told him that after seventh grade he would be advancing to the ninth grade, but he kept trying, and from time to time he would bring over a kid or two from his class to their apartment to play video games with. None of them stuck for too long, but he never gave up.

Before she knew it, he had grown from the tiny creation in her arms to a twelve year-old who had developed his own distinct personality, both good and bad.

Still, every night, every time she stopped by his room just to see if he was breathing, he remained to be the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Though many things about him had obviously changed, there were also some that stayed the same: he was still that energetic and inquisitive boy.

_Her_ energetic and inquisitive boy, who dreamed about flying to save the world.

For the second time in her son's existence, she promised to protect him and do her best to give him a good life.

She was determined more than ever to be both mother and father to him, and he seemed to understand that, but he also seemed to understand that it wasn't easy for her. Between her blooming career at the news station, her responsibilities to him as his only parent, and her loneliness, he knew she was struggling. He was very concerned, not so much about her hits-and-misses when it came to taking care of what he needed (and wanted), but about her loneliness. She had been alone for so many years, with too heavy a load to bear, that continuing on her own didn't seem like the best option anymore.

'You know, I won't be mad if you decide to date again,' he had told her one day while they were out shopping for school clothes.

She had looked at him blankly. She blinked—and then just said okay, because she knew her son had days when he felt like joking around with such serious matters.

As it turned out, he wasn't kidding. He really wanted her to try for her happiness again.

For the following months after their conversation, she entertained the invitations to dates that she formerly refused: from Roger in Human Resources (generally a nice guy, but he didn't like the fact that she has a kid); from Korey who worked at the flower shop ('He's like Johnny Bravo, Mom.' 'So no?' 'No.'); and from Zander, who she met at her first news report at the film festival (he seemed to be the guy, but her mother, her sister and her son both agreed that there was something off in the way he treated the women around him). None of them panned out the way she hoped.

Exasperated, she tried online against her son's wishes.

There, ironically, she met him: Donald.

All fell into place in a manner that made her lost her balance. He made her smile, laugh. He made her feel weightless and like she was the only most important thing in the world. He made her feel all sorts of wonderful, which she had not felt in a long time.

But he stole her heart for good when he proved to her that he loved, not only her, but her child, too.

After a grand engagement and a lifelong vow later, she came to find out that, like her, his years of singleness came with a very good reason. Three very good reasons, actually, all of whom she was glad her son found on their first day in their new home. The relationship between her husband and the three children were a little hard to comprehend at first, and everything was further complicated by talks of science and technology and bionics, but one thing stuck out to her: they are where her son belongs. They accepted him with open arms, oblivious to the judgments made about him by the world outside, and in kind he received them into his life boldly and even courageously so.

To him, they were worth fighting for, and to them, he also was.

So, for the second time that year, she fell in love—but with these three children who showed love, not only to her son, but, ultimately, to her too.

She will be remiss not to admit that her new life hasn't been very easy. After becoming a wife to a man who has apparently made a few formidable opponents and becoming a new mother to three kids whose abilities put them, not only in a position of helping others, but also in the line of fire, she has discovered that the world is more dangerous than she had thought. She continues to discover it, actually, because lately she's had many days and nights that pass by in seconds rather than chunks of hours because of worrying.

She worries about her husband, her sons and her daughter.

But she's worried most about him, especially now that he's learning that taking part in saving the world is actually not as impossible as other people say it is. He tests that newfound knowledge every time, and it drives her to the end of her sanity always. He does so for good reasons—for his family, for others—but she wishes that he would take a more careful approach rather than recklessly jumping into those situations headfirst.

He's old enough to make decisions like that, she knows, and he rarely ever turns out not okay, but she's still his mother, and she still has the responsibility to make sure he is safe.

That's why her world tilts upside down when, following a series of unexpected events, she learns that he has been caught in a horrible accident. Her mind blanks when they tell her this, and her legs turn into jelly when they won't say over the phone how bad it was. It only worsens when she finds out that he has gone missing, with their nemesis still out there and her brother-in-law nowhere to be found.

So she sits and waits and maybe, just maybe, unleashes her wrath and frustration on the hospital staff. She hopes that her son will be found soon, because if not she may just disappear too like the rest of her family and take this matter into her own hands, lifelong imprisonment or not.

Thankfully, her son returns that night with the rest of her family, and he seems unharmed. He also looked untouched by the accident, which had been described to her in graphic detail earlier that day by their rather callous school principal.

She hugs him tight before he goes to bed, despite his attempts to squirm out of her embrace after a few minutes has passed. She chides and nags, and he says he's sorry. She then tells him she loves him, and he tells her he loves her too.

The problem seems resolved after that night even if the tension in the house is still running high (it usually takes a while for the steam to blow off completely anyways). It bothers her a little bit when she notices the slight awkwardness between her and her family, as if they're walking on eggshells when speaking to her or around her, but she chalks it up as her personal paranoia that she has to work off after all of the stressful events.

But, as always with them, things are not as they appear. She stumbles upon the truth after watching the press conference, after her son, in a simple gesture of appreciation to their visitor, reveals that he has come out of that ordeal as a changed person.

_Bionics._ He's been given bionics, given abilities against her very specific wishes.

Given a permanent spot, even glued then cemented, in that line of fire that she's worked hard to keep him away from.

A day after, her husband and children comes home to an upshot of an argument between her and her brother-in-law.

They know that something has gone wrong because of the silence. In an effort to dissolve the conflict, her husband tries to arbitrate but inevitably worsens the situation. He reasons with his brother's reason: that the abilities are placed in as something her son can use to defend himself. It's not put in there just because. He even jokes that his brother may have just felt guilty and so has given his step-nephew the bionics as an early graduation gift.

She looks at him as he chuckles.

He stops then stares, his eyes widening in fear that he has said something to warrant a tongue-lashing.

Instead, she walks out of the room in disappointment because, of all people, she expected him to understand the most why she feels what she feels, and yet he doesn't.

She continues wordlessly for the rest of the day, trapped by her own anxieties and frustration. The first smile she manages for days comes out that night, when she delivers freshly laundered bed sheets to her son's room before wishing him a good night.

'Mom, I think we need to talk,' he says cautiously as she turns to leave.

She knows what about, so she says, 'No, baby. We don't.'

'Mom, please,' he begs.

She stares at him. She sighs, unable, really, to say no again to her son when this 'talk' is evidently very important to him. She proceeds to his bed then sits beside him.

He takes a deep breath and thinks about what he's going to say because he deems it necessary to make his point and not further hurt her. 'I know you don't like it, at all, what's happened,' he says, and then rushes to add when she looks at him, ' – and I'm not here to talk you into changing your mind, because I know you have a reason. I just… I want to know why.'

'Why what?'

'Why you don't want me to have this,' he answers then gestures to his new arm.

She turns her sight to it. She doesn't speak, because emotions come up to her mouth first and not words.

'Is it because you don't think I can handle it?' he asks delicately and even with a slight tone of hurt.

She looks at him. She pushes down the emotions and attempts at words. 'I don't think you should have it,' she says honestly.

His face clears for an indiscernible reason, but then he just nods, his head bowing lower.

'The issue's never been about your capability to manage something like this,' she explains. 'Leo, out of anyone else who could have it, I'm most confident about you. You think quickly on your feet, and I know you'll use it for the good. And that's the reason.' She looks at him and finds him listening intently. 'These three years had been a whirlwind for both of us. You know that. I've learned many things, and one of those is that gifts like the ones you have now will come with a price. And you're a price I don't want to pay.'

The last sentence comes out of her as a whisper because emotions had risen again, this time taking with it memories that made speaking nearly impossible. She remembers the day he was born, the day he took his first steps. The day he first spoke. She remembers the first time he cried after his father's death and when he cried because the rest of the world had shut him out.

She musters all of her strength to continue, 'I already worry about your stepdad and your siblings.' She scoffs, but then it only causes the tears from her eyes to spill. 'Once, I even wondered about your step-uncle, if he's okay.' She breathes out, releasing with it any hint of joy from her face, and then shakes her head. 'But not you, too. I can't – I can't…'

He grasps her hand warmly as sobs come out of her.

'I can't lose you,' she manages.

He looks at her a while – she knows he does – and then assures her, 'You're not going to lose me, Mom.'

'How do you know?' she asks. 'Leo, I promised that I will protect you, not only because it's my role as your parent but because I want to. But how can I do that now? I have nothing to keep you safe. You have to understand that this… This makes me feel like a failure.'

He looks at her in shock. 'Mom…'

She continues crying, trying to hold back as much as she can because she doesn't want him to blame himself for it (which he usually does when he sees her in that state). However, the restraint only increases the reverberation of her tears.

'Well, in that case, I'm sorry,' her son tells her contritely. 'I didn't know you'd feel that way.'

She sniffles in response and wipes the tears off her cheeks.

'I know this is not going to make it better, but...you actually _do_ protect me,' he says after thinking about everything. He holds her hand tighter when he smiles. 'These bionics, it can keep me from being hurt. I know it only increases the chances of me being in danger, and I understand now how you see it and I do agree. But this? This doesn't stop me from being a bad person. But you do. You teach me how to be good and to love and respect others. That will keep me safe more than this new arm will, because I'm not blindsided by things that can kill me. And, also, because of it, I'm with people who have my back.' He grins. 'See? You now have a team to help you.'

She chuckles. 'Yeah, I guess I do,' she says.

He pleasantly surprises her by encasing her in a hug, leaning his head on her shoulder.

She leans her head into his, her hand holding onto his arm to let him know that she loved him too.

'Mom?' he says a while later.

'Hm?'

'You know, it's my responsibility too to take care of you.'

She disengages from the hug and looks at him with a small but bright smile.

After another half hour of conversation, she bids him good night. He says he wants to talk about other things, but she only laughs and tells him that she knows he's stalling. She tells him it's already late and that he needs to go to sleep. He sulks playfully but still does what he's told.

When he's settled in bed, she turns off the light for him. She tells him she will see him tomorrow, to which he says okay.

Before closing the door, she watches him. Sixteen years, with many more to come. He's already learned and discovered so much, but the future still has more in store, some good, some bad.

_That's okay, _she tells him quietly._ I'm here. I'll be with you._

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><p><em>Short disclaimer: the part about Tasha and Douglas' disagreement was the idea 88keys had let me use. We both theorized that they had a conversation of some sort after she discovered what happened to Leo. <em>


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